


The Ceiling Above Our Dreams

by rainbow_letters



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 08:10:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11985753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbow_letters/pseuds/rainbow_letters
Summary: Molly Hooper is running from the demons in her life. Little does she know Fate already has a plan for her.





	The Ceiling Above Our Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I found a random 3 sentence prompt a week ago:
> 
> He swings you through the back entrance of the castle, through the servants hallway which is dark and smells of candle wax, and into a small room furnished with a bed small dress and little else.
> 
> “Stay here.” he said. “I’ll make sure she’s a sleep.”
> 
> Author: Unkown
> 
> So I admit I amended the original prompt slightly, as you will see, but my brain ran an actual marathon after being inspired by those three sentences. But thank you to the mysterious author of the above prompt.
> 
> Anyhooooooo…
> 
> Sit back, relax and enjoy 9000 and 7 words of a Medieval Sherlolly AU.
> 
> (P.S. Maybe make a cup of tea or grab a snack before starting this one.)

He swung her through the back entrance of the castle, through the servant hallway which was dark and smelt like candle wax and into a small room, furnished with a bed, small dresser and little else.

“Stay here.” He said. “I need to speak with the Porter.” She saw him properly for the first time then in the candle light. His hair was dark, but it was tinged with streaks of auburn when the light caught it. His face was long with a sharp jaw, which were complimented by his large, plump lips. Finally, were his blue eyes which glistened like rare jewels she had only ever seen in her dreams. He quickly turned out of the door, but halted for a moment with his foot poised on the concrete steps.

“There should be a change of clothes in the drawers.” He gave her a sad smile and closed the door behind him, and she heard it lock from the outside.

Molly’s eyes adjusted to the darkly lit room, with just a small candle glowed on the dresser. She timidly brought her hands to the buttons of her dress which clung to her like a second layer of skin. She stepped out of the damp beige garment as it pooled to her feet. The coldness of the room erupted goosebumps across her petite frame and she hurriedly dressed in the plain tunic she had found folded in the drawer. She sat on the edge of the bed and combed her fingers through her long, dark and wet locks. She had started to braid her tresses into a loose plait, when she heard heavy footsteps echo outside of her door.

“Are you decent, Miss?” A recognisable voice called from behind the door.

“Yes, please come in.” Molly replied meekly, as she quickly stood as the lock turned and the door opened. The tall, dark gentlemen entered the room, a wooden bowl of broth and a loaf of bread were clutched to his chest.

“I’ve brought you something to eat.” He handed the bowl to her, she held out her hands to take it from him. His fingers touched her own and his skin felt tough against her finger tips. She hastily took the bowl and placed it on top of the wooden dresser and turned back to the tall figure in front of her.

“Thank you, Sir. You have been too kind.” She bowed her head respectfully. She wasn’t sure of his position but she suspected he was in a significant role of power by his rich clothing.

“You are granted to stay here for the night. I cannot guarantee you more than that.” She had felt silk once before in her life and his voice reminded her of the softness and strength she felt as she rolled the material under her touch.

“A bed for the night is more than I could possibly have asked for. I must thank you once again for your kind hospitality.” She returned him a soft smile and his lips turned upwards. 

“Do you mind if I ask your name, Miss?” He took a tentative step towards her.

“Molly Hooper, Sir.” She gulped.

“Molly Hooper.” He repeated back to her and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks as he stared into her dark brown eyes. She was about to ask him to return the favour but hurried steps outside interrupted her and she let out a small breath instead.

“Sir William?” A smaller man, with mouse blonde hair and beady dark eyes appeared from behind the taller man in front of her. “Excuse me, Miss. Sir William, Lord Holmes has requested that he speaks with you.” Sherlock glanced towards her again, he returned his gaze to the man behind him. The smaller man cleared his throat “Immediately.” She watched as the generous stranger rolled his eyes.

“Molly Hooper, I bid you goodnight and safe travels.” He bowed his head to her and she returned the gesture but by the time she lifted her head he had already left, the door closed behind him.

She swiftly returned to the wooden bowl left on the dresser and devoured the contents of it swiftly. It had been a while since she had eaten something wholesome. Once her belly was satisfied she crawled onto the firm and small bed. She placed her head onto the straw filled pillow and let the tears fall down her face until she passed out into sleep.

\--------------------------------

Molly woke to a loud bang as the door flung open. She sat up instantly as a woman dressed in black with an immaculately white pinafore entered the room, a bunch of keys jangled in her hand. 

“Once again, I am not informed of the coming and goings of staff in this castle.” She heard the exasperated voice of the woman call from the door frame. “Do tell do you have any experience of working in a castle? Or in a household?” The older woman examined her carefully and Molly recoiled slightly under her gaze. 

“My apologies Ma’am, but I think you have made a mistake.” Molly spoke quietly.

“Your name is Molly Hooper is it not? Now out of bed with you.” The older woman stopped at the foot of her bed. Now she had awoken fully she could see she was small and her skin was wrinkled with age but her hair still retained most of its colour. She had warm dark eyes that reminded Molly of her mother’s. 

“Yes ma’am.” Molly scurried out of bed and the woman had pulled the tunic off of her before she could plant her feet on the floor.

“Then you have been instructed under my charge. You will address me as Mrs Hudson.” Molly’s eyes grew wide as she realised she must be the Housekeeper. Her accent was from a more northern region she suspected but she spoke with assured authority. 

“Now, let’s get you dressed. We have a lot of work to do.”

By the time Molly had sat down for supper later that evening she had barely had a moment to think how on Earth this had come to be. She was inwardly grateful, despite how sore her feet and back were. She had fretted what her next move would have been upon leaving the castle. A job, two meals a day and a roof over her head were more than she could have ever asked for. Especially after what had happened only days ago. A sad expression passed across her features.

“Do not fret, it will get easier.” A soft feminine voice called to her from across the table. A blonde-haired woman with large blue eyes smiled at her. Molly had not heard the woman sit down across from her, she was too deep in thought.

“I’m Miss Morstan, but please call me Mary. And you are Molly I believe?” Molly nodded a little to eagerly; word spread quickly around this place. The woman dropped her spoon and held out her hand, Molly reached out and took it in her own. 

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mary. Do you work here too?” Molly smiled back at her as she sat back further into the bench.

“I’m a cook and you are at the mercy of Mrs Hudson, so I am told? Don’t fret she is a kind woman with a good heart, you will see once you are less of a burden to her.” Molly smiled and the pair continued to eat in a comfortable silence. 

\--------------------------------

The next few weeks went by quickly as Molly absorbed herself in work. Her mornings usually started with the cleaning of the floors, followed by clearing the fireplaces of ashes and soot. She would then proceed to the bedrooms to make the beds and empty the chamber pots. Her work was never ending and on the rare occasion she had completed all of her tasks, to the delight of Mrs Hudson, help was always required in the kitchen. Molly found this most enjoyable after finding a friendship in Mary. They would giggle and gossip on their free evenings at supper, about stories and current events happening in the household. Molly started to feel she finally belonged somewhere. 

Occasionally she found herself thinking about the man who had come to find her and brought her here. Sir William, she remembered he was called. She thought about him often at night before she collapsed out of exhaustion. Tears threatened when she thought about that night when the rain came down with the fierceness of a Roman Army, he had found her walking along the banks of the river. She doesn’t remember much apart from how he called out to her and picked her up so effortlessly, she felt like a grain of sand. She had not seen him around since he had bid her farewell the evening he brought her to the castle. Despite his absence, she had learned a little bit more about the mysterious stranger when she was dining with Mary before bed one night.

“The Lord’s brother is due to return tomorrow. The girls in the household are giddy with excitement.” Mary sighed. Molly found Mary’s contempt towards the younger maidens nothing short of entertaining.

“Lord Holmes has a brother? I wasn’t aware he had other family?” Molly questioned. Lord Holmes, very much kept to himself and Molly had yet to cast a glimpse of him. He was not one for entertaining in the Great Hall or socialising with guests. He was devoted to serving his King and according to everyone she had spoken to about him with, he did it with nothing short of honour and grace. He worked solidly from the comfort of his own quarters and had a maid, Anthea, who was solely at his beck and call.

“Yes, their relationship isn’t as one would expect to find amongst brothers. Lord Holmes’ younger brother, Sir William, is well, let’s just say he is different.” Mary pondered as she picked her words carefully.

“Sir William?” Molly asked, her voice shook slightly as she realised the man who had rescued her was of noble birth as she had predicted that night.

“Yes, he’s a Knight, chooses to serve his brother by fighting dragons and beasts in distant lands. Along, with his good and only friend, Sir John.” Molly blinked back, her face expressionless as Mary spoke. “Oh, come now, Molly. Can one not take a jest?” Mary stood and took both of hers and Molly’s empty bowls. “Sir William cannot stand to be held here in the castle for longer than a full cycle of the moon before he becomes lustful for adventure. He has no cares of living the life of nobility he was born into. Instead he finds his calling seeking justice and truth in his brother’s lands. ” Molly watched as she rinsed the bowls in the large stone sink. “He’s also an excellent fighter in hand to hand combat, we’ve patched a few too many broken noses in this room over the years.” Mary gestured to the floor where some darkened patches of red stained the stone floor.

Just then a couple of younger girls passed through the kitchen. They whispered and giggled to each other but they weren’t silent enough as Molly picked out the words ‘Sir William’, 'Brave’ and 'Handsome’. Mary raised her eyes to Molly in a knowing gesture.

“One believes that may also be another reason poor Sir William cannot bare to hang around the confines of this place for more than a few weeks at a time. Although, there are rumours he has never taken up a lover, despite the endless line of women who throw themselves at him.” Molly’s eyes met with Mary’s, but before Molly could reply Mrs Hudson entered. Mary turned to the older woman and Molly stood both with their heads bowed to her.

“Ah, good you are still up Molly. I have an errand for you in the morning. I need you to go to the market for me tomorrow. We have had word our usual delivery boy has taken ill and we desperately need more potatoes, especially with Sir William returning tomorrow. The man could eat the kingdom dry of the blasted things.” Mary laughed out loudly, and Mrs Hudson smirked at Mary’s reaction before she composed herself quickly. “I will have Nelly take over your morning duties.” Molly nodded her head.

“Of course, Mrs Hudson. I will go at first light.” Mrs Hudson pursed her lips in agreement and proceeded back towards the door.

“One more thing, can you read Molly?” The older woman raised her eyebrow questionably. It was not common for girls to know how to read, especially a girl of Molly’s status. But, she had been fortunate. Her father had taught her from a young age and Molly had never been more grateful for that skill. He taught her the names of plants and herbs mainly; her father’s specialty. 

“Yes, Mrs Hudson. My father taught-”

“Good, because I may require you to pick some other pieces up whilst you are at the market tomorrow. I will post the note under your door.” She was already out of the door before Molly could comply with her. 

“Well, I hope you find some time to help assist me with kitchen duties tomorrow. I feel they may be a lot of food to prepare.” Mary sighed from beside her.

\--------------------------------

The stroll to the market was long, but it was pleasant. The sun rose as Molly left the confines of the castle and she could already tell the morning would be warm with the promise of summer. The fitted dark blue cotte she wore, flowed out at the waist and her hair crossed over the top of her head, tied together in two plaits. By the time she reached the market, it was alive with vibrant sights, sounds and smells she had forgotten existed during her time within the castle walls.

Although she knew not to waste too much time, Molly indulged slightly as she visited each of the stalls and she enjoyed socialising with unfamiliar, but friendly folk. By the time she was onto her last stall, her basket now significantly heavier, she started to loathe the prospect of the long walk back to the castle. The market trader helped her to pack the last of the potatoes into her basket, when she heard her name called from behind her. 

She turned to see Sir William atop of his steed only a few yards from where she was stood. His armour shone brightly in the sunlight. His helmet had been removed, and his dark curly locks sprung wildly on top of his head. His cape hung still behind him, the crest of his family coat of arms embroidered into the fabric. He smiled brightly at her and she turned, thanked and paid the market vendor, before she walked towards the horse. He dismounted quickly and walked over to her.

“Oh, I can manage.” Her hands remained fasted on the basket as his hands pulled at the handle.

“I insist, Miss Hooper.” His entrancing blue eyes locked with her own and she relinquished her hold on the basket. She felt a slight blush creep up her cheeks and was very aware of how public they were. He turned back towards his dapple-grey horse and Molly was unsure whether to follow or not.

“Molly, I don’t want Mrs Hudson to question why the basket arrived without you accompanying it. Now please, come and get on the horse.” Molly hesitated for a moment before she timidly came to stand by his mount. Suddenly, Sir Williams hands clasped tightly at her hips and she let out a small gasp as he hoisted her up into the saddle, her legs dangled to one side and the basket was handed up to her. Her heart beat so fast in her chest that when she felt Sir William mount himself behind her she felt it could have exploded. She worried what the people in the market stall would think. He was obviously well known to the locals here by the greeting he received. She dreaded to think what they thought about him lifting a lowly maid onto his saddle. Her thoughts were broken when she heard a voice from behind them.

“Where are thou going.” Molly recognised the man from the night she first arrived at the castle. Sir John, Molly recalled.

“Ah, Sir John you remember Molly.” Sir John, nodded his head, but he looked unimpressed as he stood and scratched at his chainmail. “I’m taking this fair maiden back to the castle. There is a grand feast to prepare for tonight and she is carrying precious cargo.” Sir William picked a potato out of the basket and tossed it in the air towards his friend. “I will see you back at the castle.” 

“Wait, my horse still needs shoeing!” Sir John called, but it was too late. Sir William had already squeezed on his steed into a collected canter, and they left the hustle of the market behind. 

The ride was more pleasant than Molly had anticipated. She sat secured between Sir Williams arms as they quickly covered the ground. As they thundered through the last part of woodland, the castle came into view. She suddenly felt Sir William pull on the reigns and the horse slowed to a dead halt. 

“It’s impressive, isn’t it.” She heard Sir William call from behind her. He was right, of course. Pictured against the backdrop of a clear blue sky and built into the hill side the castle appeared like God’s own fortress.

“Yes, very much so. It’s beautiful.” She responded, slightly breathless as she took in the view. 

“Yes, quite beautiful.” His breath tickled the back of her neck. “How are you finding life here. Is Mrs Hudson treating you well?” Sir William asked light heartedly.

“She is very kind, and the work is hard but-” Molly suddenly stopped speaking. She realised then that it was Sir William who had secured her the post as a maid. She felt her mouth go dry and her cheeks flushed. She felt a low chuckle from behind her. “It was you. You got me the position here. But why?” She turned as much as she could in the saddle to face him. 

“Mrs Hudson was at her wits end, I overheard her when I left your room that night. Two maids had left within three weeks of each other. I thought that maybe you would be a good fit. Plus, you are in my debt seen as I saved your life that night.” He winked at her and a coy smile spread across his perfectly arched lips. 

“I am eternally in your debt, Sir William. Nobody has ever showed me such kindness like that before.” She spoke softly.

“My friends call me Sherlock.” Molly cast a glance up towards him as he watched her expression.

“Sherlock?” She responded in question. 

“Yes, that’s it and now we are fully acquainted I suggest we should get you back before Mrs Hudson has one of her spells. That woman needs to learn how to pull back on her reigns.” With that his arms secured her waist again as he took up the reigns and urged the horse towards the castle. 

The feast was a grand success. Molly had never seen such a banquet as she sat and rubbed her sore feet after running up and down to the kitchen from the Hall all night. Sherlock’s arrival had uplifted the spirits of the household it seemed as the Great Hall vibrated with music and laughter Molly had not seen before in her lifetime. Their eyes met with one another, more than once throughout the night and although it may have been a coincidence Sherlock requested for Molly to wait on his hand and foot at every occurrence. Molly picked up the brush on the dresser and sighed, but those beautiful blue eyes continued to invade her every thought. 

“What in heaven’s name did you think you were doing today?” Mrs Hudson barrelled into Molly’s room as she brushed out her hair.

“I don’t understand, Mrs Hudson.” Molly asked, with her brow crinkled. She laid the brush back down on top of the dresser.

“I think you understand perfectly.” Mrs Hudson closed the door sharply behind her; this was not a conversation she wanted anyone else to hear. “I saw you on top his horse in the Castle courtyard. And don’t think I haven’t been told reports of your behaviour in the hall. What were you thinking? ” Mrs Hudson didn’t give her a chance to answer before she frantically continued her argument. “You need to be careful. People will talk and I don’t think you realise the consequences this could have. For forty years I have watched over this family, and I will be damned if I let a girl like you sink this family’s reputation down into the pig sty.” Her voice was laced with anger but she spoke in hushed tones.

“I meant no harm. He practically forced me to ride with him, I worried about people talking when we were in the market stall, but I felt I would have made more of a scene if I declined him. As for my actions tonight I apologise, Mrs Hudson. Once again Sir William kept coming over to me. I thought it would be rude of me to be unkind to him.” Molly felt tears of anger start to well behind her eyes as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed. The older lady sighed and rubbed her brow, before she sat beside Molly on the bed and took her hand’s into her own.

“Oh my dear child. You’re a smart young girl, I just don’t want to see either of you tarnished by gossip and of hopes of a dream that just cannot be.” She pressed a kiss to her temple and stood up, smoothed out her petticoat and left quietly through the door. Molly collapsed sideward onto the bed and let her eyes close as they became heavy with sleep.

\--------------------------------

Work resumed as normal for Molly after the incident at the market stall and the events of the feast. She hadn’t seen Sherlock around much and she didn’t look out for him either. The threat of Mrs Hudson loomed constantly in her mind. Instead, she kept her head down and worked till her bones ached. Then one morning she was informed that a significant portion of the household were leaving for Lady Smallwood’s estate. The castle quickly became a much larger and quieter place the moment the convoy left the courtyard. She also found she had more free time on her hands. Mrs Hudson advised her to enjoy it before Lord Holmes returned. 

On one of her free mornings, she stumbled out of the back of the main kitchen area towards the gardens. She strolled through and inspected each of the plants and herbs carefully. She smiled in memory of her father who shared with her his passion for Apothecary. She stopped to think of him as her fingers danced along the petals.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A deep masculine voice called from behind. She turned to see Sherlock stood behind her. He was dressed in a white cotton tunic, with a black fitted waistcoat that matched his black breeches, which were tucked into his mid-calf length boots. His sword was secured tightly into his belt and a young Irish Setter trotted at his heels.

“My father was the most knowledgeable man I knew when it came to plants. He always said Apothecary was the key to the fountain of youth.” Molly smiled sadly as she turned back towards the blooming garden. Sherlock came to stand beside her, he stared at a small honey bee that danced from flower to flower. 

“And do you agree?” Molly felt surprised at first. It had been so long since someone had asked for her opinion. 

“I think they hold a secret we will never truly discover. Not in this lifetime.” She turned to look up at him and his dark curls bounced gently against his face in the breeze.“ Did you not want to accompany your brother to Lady Smallwood’s estate? Apologies, I mean Lord Holmes.” Molly quickly corrected herself, but Sherlock didn’t seem to mind.

“My brother would not have me in attendance out of his own choice. Apparently, I’m too skilled in the art of embarrassment, most would agree with him.” Sherlock chuckled from beside her. “Besides, Lady Smallwood’s estate is so awfully dull, the food is atrocious and the company, well, let’s just say it holds no weight compared to home.” Molly looked down towards the ground and they enjoyed a comforting silence for a while. 

“Do you mind if I ask you.” He spoke delicately, he stirred her from her thoughts. “If I ask you what happened to you the night I found you by the river?” Molly stayed quiet for a time. She gulped as the memories resurfaced and she suddenly felt as though the earth was pulled from under her feet. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“My mother died when I was young. It had always just been the two of us, my father and I. And then that night my father was killed.” She started shakily and she could have sworn she felt his fingers lightly brush against her own; Mrs Hudson’s words were quickly forgotten. “He practiced Apothecary, he was very skilled at it, as I told you before. Word spread quickly about the skills of Master Hooper. He was adored.” Molly let out a small cry as she spoke about her tragedy for the first time. “And then. And then, one time it didn’t work. A Knight called one day, his mother was gravely ill and he took my father to treat her. She was already too far gone with fever and she died. He returned home and a week later, he came back, the Knight and he-” Molly stopped again as the tears flowed freely down her cheeks. “He set our home on fire in the middle of the night. My father and I were inside, but I managed to escape. You found me a couple of days after that. But I can hear him, still hear his words that will haunt me to the end of my days.” She paused again briefly and a light breeze blew the loose strays of hair across her face. “I am Sir James Moriarty. You and your daughter will burn eternally in hell for the sin you committed against my family.” Sherlock staggered back slightly and his hand grasped the hilt of his sword. The dog at his side sensed his master’s discomfort and whimpered up at him.

“Moriarty.” He all but whispered.

“Yes.” Molly whispered back to him. His reaction concerned her slightly as his eyes blinked rapidly and his face filled with a look of raw anger. Then he turned and paced up and down the path for a short while, as the dog mirrored his every move.

“Molly, I am truly sorry for what happened to you and your father. But I know the Knight you have spoken of.” He turned and walked back towards her. “He is truly a monster. No beast from the depths of Hell could compare to the evil that lies within that man. Pray, tell me where was your home before you came here?”

“Florin. That’s the village where my father’s house was.” She answered him, but she was unnerved with what he planned to do with the information she bestowed upon him. “Sherlock, please tell me did he do something to you too?”

“He murdered my parents.” His voice was thick with spite and rage.

“I am sorry for your loss.” Molly gently pressed her palm to his upper arm and rested it there for a while.

“You have nothing to apologise for. You have instilled in me a hope I thought I might never find again. For years I followed dead ends hoping to find the right path that would lead me to avenge the death of my parents. To think that he may be right here under our noses after all this time. I think you may have given me the most solid lead I could have ever wished for.” His eyes sparked of a fire within. “Promise me, Molly. Promise me you won’t leave here. Not until a dagger has pierced his blackened heart?” His large palm cupped half of her face and she closed her eyes as his warmth seeped into her skin. She nodded twice and then his hand disappeared and Molly felt the cool summer breeze against her cheek where his hand had been. By the time she opened her eyes he was already gone.

\--------------------------------

Days turned into months and suddenly the summer season was on the cusp of change. The leaves slowly turned from vibrant greens to warm hues of red and orange. There had still been no word of Sherlock or Sir John. Each day Molly hoped would be the day he would gallop into the courtyard safe and unharmed. 

She was sat up late one night in the chapel. She found solace in the quiet and her own company, the peaceful environment allowed her to collate her thoughts.

“Do you think you’re the only one around here who is melancholy?” A soft voice spoke from beside her.

“I’m sorry?” Molly turned her head from where she was kneeling on the cushioned floor to find Mary stood above her.

“Sir William, you long for him. Just as I long for John to return to me.” Mary spoke, her voice laced with sadness. Molly was shocked by her friend’s revelation. Mary had never been one to speak of romance and love and Molly had never thought it her place to pry.

“Forgive me, Mary. I didn’t know you and Sir John were…” Molly stopped mid sentence, unsure of the right words.

“In love? I fought against it for a while. But love is the most powerful tool of all and I was a fool to reject its advances. Like you I pray each day that he will return to me.” Mary knelt down beside her best friend. “Who would have thought it would be Molly Hooper to be the one to cast a spell over our beloved Sir William. I thought he would be a bachelor until the end of his days. You didn’t trick him with a love potion, did you?” The two girls laughed at Mary’s joke. It was the first time Molly had truly smiled in months.

“There is nothing between Sher-” Molly held her tongue. “Sir William and I. He rescued me when I had nothing but the clothes on my back. He gave me a home, work and a purpose in life again. I am eternally in his debt.” Mary cast Molly an unconvinced look.

“I saw you both that day in the garden before Sir William left. I think you both care for each other more than you realise.” Molly bowed her head and clasped her hands tighter in her lap. “Come. Let us find comfort in each other. I’m sure it won’t be long before our gallant heroes return back to us.” Mary’s arm wrapped around her back and squeezed her shoulder. They spoke no more that night, both enjoyed the quiet of the chapel as its peace embraced the pair like a cloak.

\--------------------------------

Mary’s prediction turned out to be true. Two days after their emotional conversation Molly was disturbed from her mid-morning chores as she scraped the ash and soot out of the last fireplace she had left to clean for the day.

“Molly!” She heard Mary call frantically from down the hall. Molly quickly got to her feet and quickened her pace as she left the room and turned down the hall, she almost collided with Mary as she exited the chamber.

“Come quickly. They have returned.” Molly suddenly felt very dizzy. Mary dragged her back down the way she had just ran and Molly tripped over her dress as she tried to keep up with her.

“Are they unharmed?” Molly asked breathlessly as they descended the steps, but when Mary didn’t respond Molly tugged firmly on her friend’s wrist as she brought her to a halt.

“Mary answer me, please!” Molly scanned her friend’s face for any emotion that indicated the promise of a safe return.

“John- John is well, but Sir William. He’s- he’s been wounded. Very badly. They have taken him to his quarters but they fear the worst.” Molly’s heart sank like a stone in the depths of the ocean. She would not lose him. Not now. To God and the high Heaven’s above would she let him die before she at least tried something. She pulled Mary’s hand off of her wrist and sprinted past her and up to Sherlock’s quarters. Just outside of the door she found Sir John. He was collapsed against the wall his features sunken and a few scrapes marred his face. He failed to recognise her at first and staggered to cover the door.

“You can’t go in there. It’s – oh Molly.” She slowed to a stop in front of him and flung her arms around his neck.

“I’m glad you are well, Sir John. For both yours and Mary’s sake.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. She wasn’t particularly close to the man but he was dear to Sherlock and Mary and she was very much grateful he was alive. “What happened?” She whispered as she pulled back from him her arms hung by her side.

“It’s my fault. He tried to save me, that idiot always has to be the hero. I let my guard down and Moriarty went to strike me. Sherlock pushed me aside and was pierced by his blade. It was always going to be a fight to the death. Both men swore they would fight without armour, chainmail or shields.” Sir John sniffed as he battled to control his emotions and Molly felt her heart turn to ice at his words. “But he’s dead Molly, Moriarty is dead. Sherlock plunged a knife into his back barely a moment after he was stabbed himself. Sherlock told me about what he did to you, what he did to your family. I am so sorry for the tragedy that was bestowed on you. Sherlock is – the wound is so deep. I rode as fast and as hard as I could but I fear it is not enough.” He crumpled to the floor, his head fell into his hands.

“Sir John, please listen to me.” Molly knelt on the floor beside him. "Please, let me help. I might be able to save him.” She bargained with him at the door Sherlock laid behind. He hesitated for a moment before he rolled aside.

“Save him Molly Hooper.” He whispered and she pressed a kiss to his temple.

“I will try, now go to Mary. There is little else you can do here and you need her now.” She watched as he inhaled a deep breath, clambered to his feet and walked defeatedly down the hall.

Molly quickly pushed open the door to a dozen old men crowded in the room. She saw Sherlock clearly on the bed and her heart plummeted. His body was sickly pale, his eyes dazed with fever and the wound to his chest glared at her with such darkness. She took a deep breath and stepped forward towards the bed. A priest spoke a prayer and Molly pushed past him, which caused him to lose his train of thought, as she battled to get closer to Sherlock.

“I’m going to try and save this man, but I need someone to go down into the kitchen, fetch me some honey, garlic and chamomile. And bring me a mortar and pestle.” They were some slight murmurs as the old men reacted to the interruption and being commanded by a woman. Words of witchcraft echoed around the room but Molly cared little of their opinions.

“NOW, MAKE HASTE” She bellowed, the youngest man burst out of the room and Molly turned back to Sherlock, who seemed to decline with every second that passed.

“Sherlock. It’s me, Molly.” She whispered softly and her hand brushed against his face as she assessed him. “I’m going to pour something on to your wound. It’s going to sting, but I promise it will help you.” He didn’t respond to her, instead he tossed his head and mumbled feverishly. 

Molly wasted no time and prepared herself. She washed her blackened hands and arms with the jug of water on the bedside table. She sat beside him on the bed again and poured the vinegar she had brought with her into the open wound. Sherlock roared out in pain. She continued to douse the wound regardless of Sherlock’s body as it thrashed beneath her hands. She then reached for the tunic at the end of the bed and tore a strip from the sleeve. She poured more vinegar onto the rag and gently applied pressure to the wound. Shortly, an errand boy appeared with a basket full of the remedies she had asked for. 

“Bring the basket to me child.” She gestured with her free hand as she continued to apply pressure to the wound with the other. The bleeding had started to stop, which was a relief, but Sherlock was still at risk of infection and his fever raged on. 

“Father, I want you to take over.” She pointed to the closest man to her. “I need you to keep applying pressure whilst I mix the paste.” 

Molly stood by the dresser as she grinded down the garlic and chamomile with her mortar and pestle, then she combined it with the honey once the two ingredients were refined. She watched Sherlock’s unchanged and restless face as she mixed the garlic, chamomile and honey into a paste. 

“Thank you, Father. You can step back now.” The grey bearded and heavily robed man stepped aside as Molly sat beside Sherlock once more. He had most likely passed out from the shock and pain of the cleansing. She checked his pulse; slow and weak but it was still a small victory he was alive. She then set to work and applied the paste to the wound as she scooped the mixture onto a newly torn piece of linen and worked it into the hole. Once she had used all of the paste, she gathered the remaining strips to create a dressing. With the help of a couple of the men to lift Sherlock’s torso from the bed, she wound the strips around his back securing them with a firm knot at the top of his shoulder blade.

“I’ll stay with him for a while to see if his fever passes. The paste should treat and prevent further infection, but we won’t know how well or if it has worked until tomorrow at least.” Molly addressed the group, but her gaze remained focused on Sherlock. Slowly, the men filtered from the room seemingly stunned and impressed by her talents. Molly sat alone with Sherlock for what felt like eternity until she eventually took his hand into her own and brought it to her lips.

“Don’t you give up on me now.” She whispered into his knuckles. 

She vaguely became aware of a figure that lingered at the door. He was dressed immaculately in a deep crimson and gold silk robe. She recognised by his fine clothing that the man before her must be Sherlock’s brother; Lord Holmes. She immediately dropped Sherlock’s hand back to the bed.

“My Lord.” She stood and bowed to him, her legs shook from the adrenaline that coursed through her body. 

“My dear, I’m usually all for formalities, but I think we are past all that now aren’t we? You have just saved my brother’s life. Please sit back down.” His voice was smooth as he gestured with his hand towards the bed.

“We can’t be sure if he is saved just yet, My Lord.” Molly spoke as she lowered herself back into the chair besides Sherlock’s bed. Just then the familiar Irish Setter she had seen with Sherlock before, strode into the room and stepped up onto the end of the bed. Her curled himself around his master’s feet, his eyes looked on longingly at Sherlock’s face.

“Miss Hooper, I have seen many a dead or dying man in my time. My brother does not look like either of those men.” Molly turned back to look at Sherlock, his complexion had changed slightly. There was a streak of pink, which had returned to his cheeks. “We have always had our differences my brother and I, but he will always be family we are bounded by blood and I wanted to give you my gratitude for saving that bond. Your skills have impressed most of the other nobles who observed you just then, albeit one or two who now think you’re a witch.” Molly laughed lightly and she watched as Lord Holmes lips twitched slightly. “I promise you your safety and protection should you choose to remain here. It would be a shame to lose someone of your talents and knowledge, despite what other nobles think.” Molly gave him sad smile. 

“Thank you for your generosity, my Lord.” She spoke, but her voice was barely above a whisper.

“And as for my brother, now that he has fulfilled his dream of avenging our parent’s death.” He paused lightly, his eyes seemed to hold the slightest hint of sadness. “I hope he will choose to pursue a less vengeful path.” Lord Holmes stood like a guardian at the end of the bed, his eyes unmoved from his brother.

“What path would you have your brother pursue, My Lord.” Molly watched Sherlock longingly as his chest rose and fell evenly.

“Marriage, Miss Hooper.” With that he cast her a glance, stroked the dog lightly on his head and turned back towards the door. Molly looked towards Sherlock and then to the mortar and pestle on the dresser as she contemplated her own future.

\--------------------------------

The sun had only just rose, the sky filled with a burning orange glow. Molly laid out the few belongings she had gathered in her time here. Mainly small jars of herbs were all she had to her name as she packed them into her satchel. Her dress was laid out ready for her to change into from her sleep tunic and her hair hung loose over her shoulders. She planned to leave before the rest of the servants awoke and had left strict instructions on the dresser in Sherlock’s room in regards to his treatment for the Priests to fulfil. 

“Were you going to leave without saying goodbye.” Molly spun around to see Sherlock stood in her doorway, the note she left behind held in his hands. “And I thought we were friends?” Sherlock faked a sad grin upon his lips. 

“How are you standing? I didn’t expect you to be awake for another day or so, never mind on your feet.” She was aware her mouth was agape, but she struggled to control her shock. He walked into the room and Molly felt very naked with just the thin tunic covering her body.

“It appears I have a very good healer. It’s a shame though, I planned on keeping her around. Very useful in the event of minor war wounds.” He smirked as he stood before her.

“That.” She pointed to his bandaged chest. “Is not a minor war wound. Besides I have saved your life, just as you saved mine. Aren’t we equal now?” She continued to pack the remaining jars into her bag.

“There is only way you could ever become my equal, Molly Hooper.” His hand clasped around her wrist as she grabbed the last jar. “And that is if you would do me the honour of becoming my wife.” Molly stared at him, her heart beat hard against her chest. He had a tendency for acting akin to a jester, but she knew he was serious now.

“Your brother would never allow it.” She turned her head away as she spoke to the wall. She would not allow him to make a fool of her.

“I believe my brother is the one who suggested it to you.” Molly swung her head back in shock. Surely she had not misunderstood Lord Holmes’ yesterday. He couldn’t have been suggesting the marriage of a noble born and the daughter of a lowly healer.

“I did not think he was speaking about-”

“You?” His hands came up to her shoulders, as he turned her towards him.

“Yes. I assumed he was implying someone of a more noble birth right, someone who is worthy of you.” She felt the tears sting at the corner of her eyes as she avoided his gaze.

“Molly Hooper.” He spoke tenderly, his palms cradled her small face. “Is this why you wanted to leave like a ghost in the night? Because you thought our paths were no longer aligned?” She didn’t answer him, instead she chose to blink slowly at his blurred outline as her tears obscured her vision. “I don’t want to marry some tedious and plain noble woman. Marriage always seemed such a boring social construct, something to tie me down like a lion in a cage. But with you, it could only lead to the most wonderful of adventures. And Molly, I want nothing more than to share the world with you.” He leaned in and she placed her hand against his neck as her fingers scooped into the back of his curls. His lips were against her own and she moaned lightly as she returned his kiss just as desperately. His tongue pleaded against her lips and as she parted her mouth to allow him access, it battled against her own. 

“Is that a yes?” He broke their embrace and breathed into her ear, her head tipped back in a wondrous daze as tears of joy escaped from her.

“Yes.” She released a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding as her head grew dizzy with euphoria. Not half a second later, she felt her back pressed up against the cold stone wall, his lips caressed her neck.

“Sherlock.” She gasped. “You almost died not half a day ago.” Her hands pushed against his chest in an attempt to reluctantly stop his advances. 

“Yes, exactly, I almost died. I’m feeling very much alive right now, Lady Holmes.” He mumbled into her neck. His hands shot up to hold her firmly at her waist as he took her lips in his own once more. Molly melted under his touch as he pulled her away from the wall and pushed her back towards the bed. 

Her satchel fell forgotten to the floor. 

\--------------------------------

Molly stood and admired her reflection in the tall floor length mirror in front of her. The deep ocean blue dress flowed freely at the sleeves and from her hips. The bodice fitted tightly over her torso showing off her petite shapely frame, the cuffs and skirt bottom were finished with a thick gold trim. The dress had belonged to Sherlock and Lord Holmes’ mother. They had been minor alterations to adjust the fit of the dress, there was just one physical detail Molly had requested as she brushed her hands over the embroidered, gold, intertwined chamomiles on the bodice above her breast. There was a knock at the door and Molly turned as Mrs Hudson entered.

“Oh my.” The older lady gasped and brought a hand to her lips as she admired Molly’s appearance. Molly nervously brushed a hand through her hair, it was braided like a waterfall at the top of her head before it flowed in loose wavy locks down her back. 

“You look beautiful my dear.” Mrs Hudson spoke quietly, her voice quivered with emotion as she stepped forward to delicately caress her fingers over Molly’s dress. “How did you do it?” Molly’s dark eyes stared into Mrs Hudson’s own as Molly raised a brow at her. “How did you capture his heart?” Molly looked down to the floor and smiled. “For nigh on thirty years I have watched him grow from a boy into a man. He was always different, he was special. I always hoped he would find someone who could love him unconditionally.” Molly remained quiet as Mrs Hudson’s words reverberated through her. A part of her tingled with anticipation. “I’m glad it is you Molly Hooper. You proved me wrong when I told you that your flirtations were nothing more than sand in the wind.” They both shared a knowing look as Mrs Hudson moved to step in front of Molly to affix the gold lace veil to Molly’s head. “Just promise me you will make him the happiest man alive. God in Heavens above knows he deserves that.” She spoke as the veil fell down like a cascading river over Molly’s face.

“I promise you, Mrs Hudson.”

The wedding ceremony was small and intimate. Only Lord Holmes, Mrs Hudson, Sir John and Mary were in attendance. Sherlock was dressed in a deep red tunic, his family crest displayed boldly on his chest and navy-blue hose covered his long legs. Mrs Hudson cried through most of the vows and Molly spied Mary and Sir John holding hands throughout the entire ceremony. As they proceeded from the Chapel to the Great Hall, Sherlock whispered into Molly’s ear that it was the first time he had seen his brother smile in ten years, although he suspected the promise of a grand banquet also had something to do with it. The feast on the other hand was a much grander occasion, Lady Smallwood and her house, their closest neighbouring ally was also in attendance. As the couple entered into the Great Hall, they were met with a rapturous applause.

Wine, ale, music and food flowed in abundance. Molly laughed as she watched Mrs Hudson. Even on a rare day off she still struggled to put her duties aside as she scolded and ordered the servants if they were not performing to her perfect standards. Sherlock’s hold tightened as he looked down lovingly at her for the hundredth time that day. He had refused to let her out of his sight and his arm remained constantly snaked around her waist. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look m’ Lady?” He whispered into her ear.

“Once or twice, I recall.” She giggled deliriously out of happiness and his hand moved down to the top of her thigh.

“If I remember rightly, what lies beneath your dress is the most beautiful thing I have cast my eyes upon.” A blush spread across Molly’s features. They had made love early that morning she had planned to leave him forever. It was a huge risk to take, fornicating before they were wed, but she trusted Sherlock completely and she regretted not a single moment of it. They didn’t stay much longer at the celebrations after that. 

Later that night when they were laid naked on top of the furs, a large fire crackled in the hearth and cast a warm glow upon the two bodies. Sherlock was on his back as Molly cuddled into his side, their legs intertwined. He traced patterns on the skin of her back as she lightly stroked circles around the scar on his chest. A snowstorm raged outside as the wind rattled against the windows.

“The weather is truly ghastly.” Molly yawned as she stretched further into the soft furs.

“Worry not my love, the weather won’t be troubling you much longer.” Molly lifted herself up onto her elbow as she eyed her new husband questionably. “Ah, I may have neglected to tell you we are sailing to warmer shores shortly after the Christmas festivities have ended.” Molly stared blankly as his eyes sparkled back at her. “I was not speaking in jest when I told you I wanted to show you the world.” He placed a chaste kiss to her lips and Molly smiled widely. She could have only ever dreamed of travelling to exotic and remote shores and now her husband wanted to bring those dreams to life. “Our first adventure is to the Mediterranean. I hear they can grow all kinds of plants and herbs that we could never succeed with in this kingdom. You know the Italians are the only ones to nurture medicinal practices from the Romans? I thought you would like to see those practices at work.” She straddled his waist and kissed him deeply before he could barely finish his last sentence. She instantly felt him stir beneath her. “Your gratitude is appreciated Lady Holmes.” He growled against her lips. “As is your insatiable appetite for love making.” She wrapped her legs around his waist as he rose into a seated position and she fell into his lap. 

She paused to look her lover in the eyes. His bright blue orbs clouded with lust and his large hands covered the expanse of her back as her own were clutched tightly in his dark curled locks. She struggled to define a word to summarise the happiness she felt in that exact moment. She smiled inwardly as she remembered the words Mary had spoken to her before she and Sherlock retired to their chambers.

_You married for love. You must never forget that. For there is no greater gift on Earth than to love and be loved in return._


End file.
